


We Bleed To Know We Are Alive

by MrsNecromancer



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: A Bit of Fluff, Angst with a Happy Ending, First Kiss, M/M, Mary is Not Nice, Sherlock Is Not Okay, Sherlock has feelings, Sherlock is a Mess, Sherlock is out of character, Suicide Attempt, how does one tag properly, john doesnt know what to do, mentions of child abuse, mentions of drug use, mycroft is a bit out of character, sherlock is depressed, sherlock isnt the one atemtping suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-12
Updated: 2015-03-21
Packaged: 2018-03-07 05:34:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3163148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsNecromancer/pseuds/MrsNecromancer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a very tiring case, Sherlock finds himself spiraling deeper and deeper into the hell that is his mind. John doesn't know what to do anymore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this has been edited for those who didn't know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has been beta'd..... hooray! the most amazing Jurgbury helped me with this! anyways, enjoy!

 Sherlock’s heart was racing, his head was pounding in his skull. He had to save this girl, he just _had_ to. Honestly, he hadn’t really thought about what he was going to say to get her off that ledge. Yet the words came tumbling out anyway.

"You think this will help? You honestly believe this will help you?" He had started shouting into the megaphone, "This won’t fucking help! In fact, it would do more damage to those around you! Your little sister? She's not going to have anyone to protect her when you’re gone! She's four! You think killing yourself is the answer? It’s not! It never has been! I did drugs for _years_ because I thought it was the only thing to keep me occupied! And you know what? My brother, Mr. _I’m the British fucking government and I don’t get scared_ , was terrified when he got a call saying I had over dosed," he sucked in a harsh gulp of air, tears stinging his eyes, "I took this case thinking it was going to be a simple drug bust, but I instead found two broken and beaten girls locked up in a drug den! It was no longer about taking down the drug dealers and smugglers, it was getting you and your sister away from your abusive parents! I've been working my fucking ass off to get you protection," Sherlock’s voice cracked, tears were running over his cheeks.

The police force behind him was forced into a shocked silence. Lestrade stood rigid. The detective gathered himself and forced out his last couple of sentences. "Please, please don’t jump. I had to jump off of Saint Bart’s in front of my best friend, and he still hasn't forgiven me. I don’t think I can forgive myself. Please, don’t, let me help you Kathleen," he breathed, trying his hardest to hold himself together. Kathleen stepped backwards off of the ledge and back onto safe ground, sobbing uncontrollably. Just then, a small hand tugged on his jacket. He turned to find the little sister standing there, tears in her eyes.

 

"Thank you." She whispered, tears falling. Sherlock wiped his tears away, before bending down to wipe hers away with a flick of his wrist. He gave her a comforting smile as he fixed one of her out of place hairs. “You’re welcome, I promise to get both of you to safety. And I promise to get you protection. Look, your sister is right over there, go see her.” murmured Sherlock. The little girl nodded, tugging him to follow her as he stood up. They walked over to Kathleen who had her head in her hands. She lifted her head when the little girl coughed. Kathleen hopped off the ambulance bumper and scooped her sister into a hug.

"I’m so god damn sorry, Lily. I’m sorry I put you through that. It was too much. We are getting help now so it’ll be better," she cried, holding Lily close. Lily leaned back a little bit.

"It’s okay, I love you. Thank you for not jumping. I wouldn’t have been able to catch you, I’m too small." She replied, hugging her sister back again. Sherlock excused himself, walking away from the two girls.

Thunder rolled overhead, threatening London with rain. He sighed, pulling his coat tighter around himself.

Lestrade, looking shaken, asked for his statement, and Sherlock gave it without complaint. This earned him a worried look, but the detective simply ignored it, opting to start the paperwork against the girls' parents for child abuse. The case went on for one more week after that. The parents refused to admit to the abuse and the involvement with the drugs. Sherlock stooped to drastic measures to ensure they confessed and gave up custody of their children. Sherlock would never admit calling in Mycroft for evidence of the parents abusing the girls. Mycroft didn’t put up a fuss over favors and simply gave Sherlock the evidence, giving him a pointed look as he did so. Sherlock was aloof during the whole thing until right up to the point where the girl’s father slapped Kathleen at court. Sherlock was upon him like a hound out of hell. Three guards had to pull the detective away from the father, who ended up with a sprained wrist, two bruised ribs, three broken fingers, a swollen cheek and a black eye. Sherlock walked away with a bruise on his left arm.

Kathleen and Lily expressed their gratitude with a five minute hug. He hugged them back with just as much conviction. Lily patted his cheek and his chest constricted painfully at how similar she and Amelia were. When they left, Sherlock went home and laid in bed. He didn’t leave his room for days.

 

===== 

 

John called the next morning. John never called. Sherlock stared at his phone for a while. He felt hollow and empty. His head was, for once in his life, blank. He fell back against his pillow holding the phone to his chest. He wondered how he would do in war, he wondered if they would sound a bugle for him. Like in the old movies that he used to watch with his father. A sad smile graced his lips. Tears started cascading down his face. His hands covered his eyes and sobs started attacking his body. His lips murmured out broken syllables that sounded an awful lot like “John”. He missed those blue eyes. He missed the way they laughed together. He wished he would have told John, instead of holding it in.

After all the things they went through, without John, his life felt barren and lonely. The tea never tasted quite as good to him, but to be honest, he never had tea in the flat anymore. John’s room had gathered dust since his departure, the bed was the only thing in his room with disturbed dust. People often asked if he was tired because his shoulders drooped and his deductions were never as rapid fire as he liked. He noticed he never had milk anymore. Really, of all the little things John had done, getting the milk is what Sherlock missed a ridiculous amount. He missed everything about John. He missed that stupid little self-satisfied smirk John got when Sherlock ate. Sherlock understood why he felt like this. He’d known since, well, since the beginning. Mrs. Hudson must have known he was having a crisis because she walked though his door and sat on the edge of the bed and stayed there until Sherlock was ready to talk. He didn’t though he simply rolled until he was close enough to where she could easily run her hand over his hair. “I know, dear. I know,” she whispered, leaning against the headboard. This just served to make Sherlock sob even harder.

Mrs. Hudson left to go shopping sometime after Sherlock had gotten himself under control. He contemplated throwing himself off a building again. Then the image of Kathleen popped into his head and he violently sent the thought away. He exited his room and padded into the bathroom, dimly aware of Mycroft standing in his living room. He took a quick shower and changed into new clothes. When he emerged again Mycroft had tea ready and even had little biscuits set out on a tray for him. He took the tea and gulped it down. Mycroft didn’t speak for a while, but Sherlock just sighed and waved his hand, encouraging his brother to say what he wanted.

“John's been trying to get ahold of you. He has called me, which I assumed was important because he never does that. He was wondering if you were alright. I wanted to ask you before telling him. I was respecting your privacy.” Mycroft stared at the floor. Sherlock stared at him with blank eyes, red from crying.

“I’m fine. If there were ever a better term for it. He tried calling me as well. I’m assuming Lestrade will be over soon to make sure I haven’t killed myself, yet.” Sherlock replied walking into the sitting room. He didn’t catch the look of complete surprised panic flash over his brother's face.

“Yet?” he asked evenly. Sherlock sighed, looking up at his brother.

“It’s bound to happen. I can hardly focus on a case, I’m becoming suicidal and there’s nothing left for me. It’s only a matter of time before I start the drugs back up. And don’t think ‘bout stopping me, Mycroft, because I really don’t want you to this time.” His voice was weak and broken. Mycroft hadn’t looked quite so frightened in his life.

His eyebrows furrowed when Mycroft abruptly turned and exited the flat. Sherlock stayed in his chair, eyeing John's with no emotion. Mrs. Hudson came back within the next twenty minutes, looking shaken. Sherlock couldn’t find it in himself to deduce her so he waited for her to tell him herself. She didn’t, just walked in, looked around the flat, looked at him, then nodded her head, and left. He closed his eyes, wondering if his old drug contacts were still alive. A low hum sounded in his throat. He got up, moving to go back to his room to dig up some files when John walked through the door.

 

=====

 

John had been working with a patient when he heard the commotion outside of his room. With a quick "be right back," he excused himself and went to investigate. He was prepared to face a hysterical patient or something else, but he didn't at all expect to see Mycroft yelling at his head nurse.

"You will let me back there now! I am the British government! Don't make me-"

"Mycroft? What are you doing?" John called, walking around the front desk. Mycroft straightened his stance, his eyes wide. John noticed how shaken he looked and his muscles tensed.

"John, I wouldn't be here unless I thought it wasn’t necessary but I demand that you return to Baker Street, now." Mycroft declared, voice shaking. John raised an eyebrow. If John were being honest he was relieved Mycroft came in. However, he was wary to just leave.

"Mycroft, I can't just leave. I have a patient waiting for me, I really can't just drop everything I'm doing at the drop of a dime because the Holmes need something and furthermore-"

"He's becoming suicidal." Mycroft interrupted. In the next few moments, John’s thoughts slowed before speeding up to a million miles an hour. He turned to his head nurse and asked her to get his patient another doctor. She nodded quickly, paging doctor Rittman to take his spot. John dismissed Mycroft, who blinked in surprise. The doctor gathered his things and swept out of his work. He usually never got a cab on the first try but he must have looked about as righteous as he felt because a cab immediately slowed and pulled over. He slammed the door after he crawled in, spitting out the address to the driver. He dropped his head into his hands arms shaking in fear.

 

=====

 

Sherlock couldn’t breathe. He wasn’t supposed to be here. John was not supposed to be here. Sherlock’s mouth opened then closed, not sure what to say. John's face looked like a mix between fury, worry, and relief. The good doctor marched forward and tugged Sherlock into a hug. The detective broke down. He completely surprised himself, not realizing how unstable he was. John let him sink to the ground, following him there. His chanting of John's name started up again with the added chorus of ‘please’ and ‘sorry’. John held him as he cried, rubbing soothing circles into his friends back.

John didn’t say a word. He didn’t need to, and Sherlock didn’t want him to. He was too terrified of what John would say when he did. The detective's fingers gripped John's jumper so tight his knuckles turned white. John held on to Sherlock tightly, arms straining from the effort to keep his best friend in his warm embrace. How long they sat there, they didn’t know. The blonde leaned his forehead against Sherlock’s shoulder, breathing heavily. John's heart had stopped when Mycroft had said those three words in front of him. It didn’t start back up until he was standing in front of Sherlock. It hurt. His very core shook with shock. Mrs. Hudson came up, setting something down in the kitchen before walking back out again without a word. John suspected it was tea. It wasn’t of course, he would later realize. His phone buzzed in his pocket, but he couldn’t be arsed to check who it was. He suspected it was Mary. Always demanding the location of where he was. And he guessed this time it was necessary since he had left work and hadn’t picked up Amelia. He would later be told that Mycroft had her picked up and was down stairs the entire time keeping Mrs. H Company.

When the two men finally separated, Sherlock's face was red and he looked defeated and broken. John didn’t look any better himself. Sherlock let out a long sigh, running one hand through his unruly hair. His shoulders slumped, his eyes were droopy and glazed over. John shuddered. He hadn’t known this side of Sherlock, but now that he was seeing it, he wished he hadn't. John needed to know what had caused this spell of depression and he wanted to help. So, he broke the silence.

“Sherlock, what’s happened?” he asked, making sure to keep his voice as calm as possible. It still shook at the end. Sherlock lowered his head, slipping deeper into himself. John’s throat constricted in fear. “Please, Sherlock, tell me, don’t go.” He whispered, reaching forward to grip Sherlock's head in his hands. Said detective came back a bit but was still far away. His eyes tried staying on John, but drifted every time he thought too long. After a while, Sherlock's mouth opened and he uttered a single sentence that made John's stomach drop and his heart shatter.

“I want to die.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed I added a little bit and I tried not to change it too much. chapter two and three should be uploaded here in a bit. until then, see you next time!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *throws new chapter at your face* *runs away*  
> holy mother of soda. this has been through three stages of edit and I still couldnt make it longer. wtf.

"I want to die."

John’s heart skipped a beat. _No_ , Sherlock hadn't said what he thought he did. He couldn't have heard him right, and yet, "Please, I just want to die." Sherlock sobbed, bowing his head. John pulled in a sharp breath and gently tilted Sherlock’s chin to look at him.

"Why, why would you want something like that?" He whispered harshly. The doctor’s eyes stung from the tears he was holding back. The silence in the flat was deafening as Sherlock tried to piece his thoughts together.

"You aren't here anymore. What do I have left?" Sherlock forced out, gripping on to John's jumper, "it hurts when I remember you aren't here. I hate being on a case without you. I don't know how to function anymore, John," The detective’s voice cracked. John finally couldn't handle it anymore and yanked Sherlock into another bone crushing hug. His tears fell hot from his eyes.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I didn't see the signs. Please forgive me for my ignorance," John paused here, his fingers rubbing tiny circles into his friend's back, "I should've known after the wedding. Hell, I should have known before the wedding." Sherlock sniffed, slipping his arms around John’s torso.

"I'll always forgive you John. I didn't want you to be unhappy, that's the last thing I ever wanted for you. Looks like I can't even do that, I apologize John," Sherlock moved his head to rest his chin on John's shoulder. He inhaled deeply, filling his lungs with oxygen before letting it out in one fell whoosh. Sherlock couldn’t bring himself to do much else, trying to imprint John’s warmth into his head so he would never forget it, if this encounter went wrong, "It's getting harder to keep it locked away," he murmured, not realizing he had said it aloud.

"Then don’t," John replied, resting his cheek against Sherlock’s head. The younger of the two tightened his hold before relaxing again.

"John," Sherlock whispered, his hands slipping into John's hair from up the back of his neck, “My dear Watson, I can’t live without you. You make me feel human. You tell me to eat, you get me to sleep when I can’t. Your constant loyalty baffles me. I am a ridiculous man, John. I am a junkie in need of a fix, I’m broken and beaten. I don’t deserve you in the slightest, but John. Oh John, I want to deserve you,” He felt John's fingers slide into his hair.

"Sherlock," John murmured, waiting for one of them to work up the courage to speak.

The detective pulled back enough from the embrace to lock gazes with his doctor, "I love you." John felt warmth run through his body, a smile tugged at his lips as he brought their foreheads together.

“Sherlock, I love you too. I've loved you for a long time," John's eyes filled with tears as he was finally about to say it aloud, "I've been in love with your idiot self since the beginning," John hummed, pressing a kiss to Sherlock’s cheek. The brunette smiled, resting his right hand on John's neck.

"I wanted to impress you from the beginning," he breathed, “I thought I’d be able to win you over. It turns out you won me over instead. Now, I’d rather like it if you kissed me now.” He declared softly. John laughed, his eyes shining in happiness.

“My pleasure,” he said as he closed the distance between their lips.

Now, if this were a movie there would have an explosion of light and music. It would have been a rotation shot of their kiss. However, we are not in a movie, and their kiss was only brilliant in their own little world, only brilliant to one another. Their lips met for the first time and it wasn’t perfect. The kiss was messy and difficult to adjust into it smoothly, but the simple fact that they both knew they could kiss one another made them both giddy and carefree. They sat on the floor of 221b and kissed for what felt like hours to them. They touched and touched, their hands roaming over one another intimately, but they had didn't consider sex yet. They simply appreciated the fact that they could finally touch without rejection. It was euphoric.

Sherlock was the first to pull away from their kiss. He was left breathless and panting. John wasn't any better himself. Both of the two men giggled, holding tighter to each other. "I love you." John whispered to make sure his intentions were clear. Sherlock hummed, running his thumb underneath John's jaw. Sherlock stopped moving, and looked at John with worry. "What about Mary?" He asked. John sighed, shaking his head. His eyes looked sad and tired. "I'm hoping to file for divorce. I just hope I can still see Amelia. This isn't what I wanted but there isn't any other option. I’ve been emotionally abused since she shot you. She hit me just last week for dropping tea on the carpet by accident. I know what abuse is, I was abused as a child," John admitted, scrubbing his hands over his face, “but I can’t stay with her anymore. Not after everything she has done to you and me, it isn’t fair.” His shoulders slumped in relief, the weight of the confession lifting from his shoulders. Sherlock kissed his nose.

“John, if you’re being abused we can get the police involved. I can ask Mycroft for help with getting your marriage annulled. She did marry you under a false name, so therefore you’d gain custody over Amelia. Let me know John, I will go to the ends of the earth for you,” Sherlock declared seriously. A sigh left John's mouth. He leaned into Sherlock, wondering how he ever got so lucky to have the world’s most brilliant human fall in love with him. “Yes I would very much like your help,” he replied.

 

 

The mechanical click of the safety being flipped off on a gun filled the flat. "Oh how _cute_ , sadly, you're not going anywhere, John." Mary growled from the doorway, John's gun wrapped tightly in her hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heheheheheheheheh.... apologizes for the shortness. bet you thought that wouldn't happen. psh i'm just kidding you guys are so smart you probs saw that coming from miles away. anyway next chapter is ganna be super angsty and slightly panic inducing, and it will be more involved. don't worry though I love happy endings so there. until next time!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here it is the last chapter.... enjoy!

"You're not going anywhere, John," Mary growled, John's gun wrapped tightly in her hand. The flat's atmosphere grew heavy and tense. Sherlock's jaw was slack in surprise. John slowly turned to face his wife, his right arm shielding Sherlock as he did so. He felt Sherlock reach forward to grip onto his arm, his nails digging into his skin. Mary adjusted her stance, bringing her left hand up to steady the gun. Her body was held tight and locked. Like a trained professional on the job, and really, John knew by the way the gun was being held, the bullet that would shoot from the gun would kill them both.

John kept his eyes trained on his wife as he strained to hear if anyone was still downstairs. He quickly tried to come up with a plan that involved not dying, he considered shoving Sherlock to the floor so he landed on his back, however before he could, Mary cleared her throat and tilted her head.

"Now John, we are married and have a child. You wouldn't want to be a bad husband and leave me, would you? Besides, if you don’t come with me, I’ll put a bullet in his pretty little head," Mary sang, now pointing the gun directly at Sherlock. Said detective inhaled sharply, his nails digging even further into John's arm. John placed his hand on Sherlock’s for a moment before he stood slowly, his hands raised so as to not cause Mary to unexpectedly shoot.

"Mary, stop, we can talk about this," he pleaded, taking a small step forward.

"No we cannot! You will not leave me, John Watson!" Mary yelled, the gun shook in her hand. Behind him he felt Sherlock stand, slowly, holding his hands up as well, pressing his shin against his back so they were physically connected.

"Please Mary, stop! Nothing good will come out of this! You've been abusing me for ages! How would this keep me with you? It won’t!" John was trying his hardest to come up with a way to get the gun away from her but just as he took another step something seemed to snap in Mary as the gun jerked to his right and fired the gun as she shouted, “This is all your fault!"

 

John couldn’t breathe. He barely had enough time to shove Sherlock toward his chair for some cover. John hoped to save him from her bullet, but as they both fell he heard Sherlock let out a strangled yelp. He didn't register hitting the ground. All he felt was the panic that was rushing though him as he turned to examine the detective.

"Sherlock? Sherlock! No, no no no please no," John sobbed, ripping off Sherlock’s shirt to check him for injuries. There, just under his breast, was a gun shot that was bleeding profusely. John let out a strangled cry throwing off his jumper to press onto the wound.

His already slowing world screeched to a halt when he heard his daughter's voice calling up the stairs, "da', da'? Is that you? What was the noise?" Amelia called. He looked at Mary. She shrugged.

"Look what you made me do, John. All your fault. If you don't come with me right now, I'm going to shoot our little girl. Wouldn't want our sweet little Amelia to die do you?" She paused turning towards the steps, "Amelia, honey, come up here please," she called, her voice filled with fake honey. John saw red. She would never ever hurt his family. As Amelia rounded the bottom step and Mary raised the gun to fire, John threw himself off the floor and ran at Mary while shouting at Amelia, "Vatican cameos". He collided with Mary as a shot rang through the flat a second time. They fell to the floor and Mary dropped the gun. The good solider grabbed it and unloaded the clip in one fluid motion tucking the gun into his waistband while he tucked the clip into his pocket. Mary struggled against him but with a swift hit to side of her head she was left unconscious. He scrambled off her, running to the door to see Amelia on the ground shaking with her small hands over her head. He felt himself let out a breath of relief.

"Amelia, love, it’s okay, go down stairs and call an ambulance, Mycroft, and Greg, okay?" His little girl looked up with tears in her eyes but nodded and ran back down the steps. He was grateful he had practiced that with her just in case it was ever needed (not that john thought Mary would ever try anything like this at the time) her 4th birthday had been four weeks ago when he’d decided Amelia needed to know what Vatican cameos meant. Sherlock groaned from behind him and he whipped around racing back to his lovers side. His hands added pressure to the wounds while waiting for help to arrive.

"I'm so sorry. Fuck, I'm sorry. This is my fault. I could have prevented this. Please stay with me Sherlock," John cried tears falling down his face. Sherlock coughed waving his hand. "I'm fine John. Nothing fatal. Although I'd appreciate if your wife would stop shooting me." Sherlock muttered bitterly squeezing his eyes closed in pain.

A startled laugh left John's mouth. "Yeah, no. Never again," the doctor checked his watch, "I need the yard or the ambulance to get here." He growled, checking the wound every so often. Fifteen agonizing minutes passed from the time Sherlock was shot, but finally pounding footsteps were heard on the stairs racing up to their flat.

Moments later, a team of paramedics and Lestrade crossed the threshold. John was shoved away in seconds. Greg came round and held him back asking him about what the hell happened. John turned to Mary who was waking and pointed to her. "Her. She shot him again. Lestrade arrest her she threatened to shot my daughter after she shot Sherlock," John snarled. Greg nodded pulling out hand-cuffs as he crossed the floor. Mary came round as Greg snapped on the last cuff. A scandalized screech erupted from her mouth as she attempted to pull away from the DI.

"How dare you touch me! I didn't do this, John did!" Mary yelled struggling against her bonds, "John pulled the trigger! I tried to stop him from shooting Sher-"

"That's quite enough of that, Ms. Morstan. No point in trying to defend yourself. I have everything on tape," Mycroft declared strolling into the flat. He shot a deadly glare at the women before turning his gaze to his brother. "How is he?" He demanded coolly. A paramedic relayed Sherlock’s state to Mycroft as the other two carried him from the flat. John followed closely behind. Greg shoved Mary towards his partner, opting to follow along with the ambulance, Mycroft gazed at Mary with disgust, while he addressed the officer, "Make sure she goes into custody and lock her in a supervised room." With that, he swept out of the flat as well.

 

=====

 

Sherlock was moved to critical care after a four hour operation. John paced the hallways and nearly drove Greg mad while doing so. His mind kept repeating the words that Sherlock had said in his head over and over again “I thought she’d just kill me. It would have been over. I didn’t think she’d go after Amelia,” what the hell had he meant by that? When John was finally able to see Sherlock he almost broke from seeing so many machines hooked up to his lover. In retrospect, there was maybe three or four, but in the adrenaline and stress his mind exaggerated to consider there were dozens.

Mycroft granted John access to Sherlock at all times so he wouldn't have to leave. Amelia was allowed in when Sherlock started to stir. "Is he ganna be okay?" She whispered into John’s jumper, her eyes fixed on her adopted uncle, whom she thought of more as a dad. John sighed, kissing his daughter's forehead. "He should pull through, Ame. He's a stubborn git. Besides, if he decides not to get better, I'll pull him back by the ear if I have to." This made Amelia giggle. A soft groan caught their attention. "Jawn...." Sherlock murmured, his eyes still shut. A moment later he seemed to have fallen asleep, but John knew better. The blond got up slowly shifting Ame in his arms as he crossed the small room.

"Hey, how are you doing?" He murmured, running his left hand through Sherlock’s curls. The detective relaxed into the bed as his eyes slipped open. "Fine, I'm hyped up on pain meds so that's good." He replied, but quickly dipped his head wringing his hands together. John’s eyebrows furrowed.

 

"Good that's good, I'm glad." John responded, sitting down on the bed. Amelia crawled from his arms to curl into Sherlock’s side. She wrapped her tiny hand around the detective’s other one and let a tear fall. "I was scared you wouldn't come back." She whimpered, gazing up at him. Sherlock smiled.

"My little amore, I will always come back. I’m too much of a stubborn git not to," Sherlock declared grinning at John. John grinned back, leaning forward to press a kiss to his forehead. Mycroft chose this exact moment to walk into the room with Greg at his side. "Oh good, you're awake. John I have news for you," he announced, hands folded behind his back, "Your marriage has been deemed invalid due to Mary marrying you under a false name. Also because she's a criminal. Your belongings have been moved to Baker Street and Amelia will be changing day cares, one that is within walking distance. Sherlock, I imagine you will want this swept under the rug, so I've kept it from the public eye as much as possible. Gregory will take your statements. I best be off, lots of work to do," with that, he swept out of the room with a click of the door.

Greg shook his head, amused. "You Holmes boys are so dramatic. You heard him, I’ll be needing that statement but it can wait. I want to know how you boys are doing." Greg asked, walking closer to the bed. Sherlock sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"I’m fine. Sore from where I was shot. John's been keeping me company, and you, Lestrade, are five seconds away from smiling like a smug idiot so please spare us the ‘I told you so’ and get it over with," Sherlock growled, glaring at his friend. Greg let out a hearty laugh. John shook his head in exasperation.

"No, no. I wasn't going to say that, Sherlock," Greg smiled, "I was going to say it’s about time and congrats. You could've gone without that," he gestured to the wound, "but you know you guys can't half ass anything." He crossed his arms over his chest, adopting a scornful look. “you aren’t allowed on case until your fully healed, no don’t give me that look Sherlock, I don’t want you getting hurt again I know I won’t be able to keep you away for long but I can at least let you heal.” Greg finished point at Sherlock’s chest. The detective crossed his own arms and pouted. John laughed.

“Of course Greg I’ll keep him at home, no worries,” John paused, remembering what Sherlock said. He turned to his detective, "Sherlock, why did you want her to kill you?” he asked. The effect was instantaneous. His head shot up in surprise. “I said that out loud?” he whispered, his hands twisting around each other, “I hadn’t meant to, really. There isn’t any reason to worry about it. I’m sorry for saying that.” He admitted, ducking his head. Greg sighed as John gazed at Sherlock with worry and sadness. Before Greg could say anything there was a knock on the door. The three men watched as the door opened and a small five year old walked through the door with a taller girl behind her. Sherlock inhaled sharply.

“Sherlock? I’m glad you’re still here. We heard you were shot and were sent to the hospital and Lily wanted to stop by,” the older girl blushed, looking down at Lily who waved and bounced toward the bed. “I’m super glad you’re okay. And we wanted to tell you that we found a really good home with parents who love us. Kathleen come over here.” Lily called, waving her hand. Kathleen crept forward, wary of the two men staring at her in surprise. She noticed the little girl siting on the bed and waved. Lily beamed. “Now, Kathleen was too embarrassed to tell you herself but she wanted to thank you, she always wanted you to know that you’re a huge inspiration and that she looks up to you for support,” Lily clapped her hands together looking towards her sister for approval.

Kathleen smiled, she turned toward Sherlock and held out her hand. He took it wordlessly. “Um, yeah. I wanted to thank you. I couldn’t possibly thank you enough. Sorry for interrupting but she was determined to come see you,” she let go of his hand and turned towards John. "You must be John Watson? I’m Kathleen, the girl Sherlock saved awhile back. I’m not sure if you’ve forgiven him but you should. You know, for jumping. I read everything on your website and I must say I’m convinced, I hope you both have made up. Again I apologize on intruding, I’ll let you get back to whatever you were doing.” She then picked up her sister and exited the room, saying a quick good bye to Lestrade who waved back in astonishment. Sherlock cleared his throat as the door shut. John blinked several times before returning his attention to Sherlock.

“What was that about?” he asked putting his hands on his hips. Sherlock chuckled his eyes glazing over with tears. “Something I never thought would happen. I’m glad they found a good home.” He sighed, closing his eyes in thought. John's shoulder relaxed, his hands dropped back to his sides. “Tell me about it?” he requested, sitting back down on the bed. Greg excused himself as his phone rang. Sherlock hummed taking John's hand in his own. “Do you want me to?” he replied. John nodded.

“I have time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys, so that's it. do what you will with the ending I quite like the ambiguous ending. sorry it took so long as you guys know a03 was having some technical stuff done. special thanks to Jurgbury for helping me edit and complete this. um, I might ask Jurgbury to help me with my other story but I'm not sure yet. if I do, ill let you guys know on my tumblr?  
> which is consultingshipperoftheincarceron, you don't have to follow me but that's where ill make an update or send me a pm if you'd like. anyways, until next time.


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